Thursday, April 23, 2015

‘U seem like a difficult person to please’ He messaged. And tempted as I was to correct him that perhaps what he wanted to say was ‘you seem like a difficult to please person’, I simply replied ‘I get that a lot.’ Because I got what he meant and, frankly, I was simply not in the mood to discuss how a misplaced adjective can change the whole meaning of a sentence.

The impression that I was difficult to please was derived from two short paragraphs I had written on the ‘About Me’ section of a social networking site. Had it been a few years back, I would have felt offended because I was very easy to please—I was delighted by the simplest of things, and appreciative of the faintest acts of kindness from people. Needless to say, over the years, pleasure has become as vapid a phenomenon as seeing a rainbow in the sky. Growing up, I was taught that a rainbow has seven colours. And over the years of my prepubescent and adolescent life, I deluded myself that I could indeed see seven colours in a rainbow. Then I got tired of making a fool of myself because I look at a rainbow and see only three colours: red, yellow, and blue. Don’t bother asking me where the other colours went; I have not the slightest of idea.

There are two things I would like to address here: first impressions and how I am, at the same time, easy and difficult to please. But the sound of the dogs barking and the loud TV are trying to drag me out of the zone. So feel free to hit the close or back button while you still have not wasted a good amount of your time.

First impressions do either of two things: pique our curiosity or dissuade attention. Either way, I find it morally and intellectually irresponsible that we allow these first impressions to rule over logic and lead us into judging a person based solely on first impressions; especially when such impression entertained on the account of appearances. He looks dumb, therefore he must be dumb; she dresses like a prostitute, she must be one. We all have fallen victim to allowing our first impressions of people dictate how we treat them. And I don’t think we should get comfortable with, or start making excuses for, it; I, for one, know it’s a struggle to put first impressions in the back burner. There is one first impression though that I always trust; that of cold beer, with its icy steam dancing on the bottle, and how it’s going to make me feel like angels are singing “hallelujah” behind me as the cold, golden liquid drenches my throat.

Now, as for first impressions people have of me, I have to admit that they almost always dissuade attention. I have often been told that I give off this impression that I am—drum rolls, please—a bitch; that I am intolerably rude and abhorrently insufferable. I am also aware that to some people, I am perceived as a pushover, mainly because of my sexual preference. Now, that one makes me want to chuckle my way into the next decade.

First impressions are either good or bad. And, personally, I don’t feel the need to either prove or disprove them. One cannot help how others perceive him, and I don’t think one should be remotely worried about it at all. If first impressions are people’s primary, or sole, basis of how they treat you, it’s their loss.

Now, although I don’t think I should avow whether or not I am difficult to please (my family and friends are far more calculable on the matter), I believe I am privileged and at liberty to throw in my two pennies worth since it concerns myself. I shall attempt to be succinct.

When it comes to superficial things (worldly stuff, if you must) I am generally easy to please; like a twenty one-year old whose idea of pleasure is food, sleep, coffee, alcohol and nicotine, unrestricted access to a good Internet connection, beach, and whatnots. Did I mention alcohol and nicotine? When it comes to relationships (people in general), however, it is quite difficult to even define what pleasure is.